


And I Never Did.

by voltronexe



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: A mixture of both but prominently hero, Blood, Hero/Villain, Honestly this was more fun to write than it should have been, M/M, Shance Week 2016, This one is short ??? But the next one's gonna be longer, homicidal Lance, shance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 20:47:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8548591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voltronexe/pseuds/voltronexe
Summary: This spaceship was not his family. His family was on Earth, and he was going to make them pay for taking him away.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is gonna hurt you more than it'll hurt me @ Tiny

At this point, he couldn’t control it. But he didn’t want to, either. In fact, the mere thought of controlling his nefarious tendencies made his skin crawl with disgust and his head swim with the idea of being a decent person. He found solace in the things he did to piss off the rest of Team Voltron, but now? Now his plan really kicked into gear.

  
He wasn’t doing this because he had a personal vendetta against Shiro. No, in fact, the several months of their relationship had been more or less genuine for him. He did feel the odd connection to his leader that made his insides twist and curl like smirks and tree branches, but he was the weak spot. He was the easiest to manipulate, primarily with Lance’s own body or the work of his hands, his words, and if he could get Shiro to come under his control, then he can do exactly what he’s wanted to ever since he was cursed to be billions of lightyears away from home.

  
This spaceship was not his family. His family was on Earth, and he was going to make them pay for taking him away.

  
He battled with the multiple plans he had in his head. He could easily strip Shiro of his prosthetic arm, leave him virtually powerless and then shove him in some airlock chamber with the door to the blissful outside open. He could kill him, snap his neck or snuff him out in his sleep. He could find a way to get inside his head and unlock that part of him that had forgotten most of what it was like to be The Champion, but that would take valuable time that Lance knew he didn’t have.

  
He lay beside the man, curled over him and tracing the scars on his bare chest, contemplating this in their nakedness while the Black Paladin lay, snoring gently. He couldn’t sleep. He could kill him now.

  
What was he going to do about the rest of the lions and paladins? About Allura and Coran?

  
He could easily kill them, too. His bayard would take care of them. Blast holes in their chests that could fit an entire other person inside of it, like a circus act. Or he could frame the Princess. Force everyone to distrust her.

  
He’d thought about that a lot. He had her letter opener and pieces of her hair, and he knew that the only one who knew how to get in and out of her room was herself. She was definitely asleep.

  
Or maybe he could kill Keith, first. The smile that broadened across his cheeks made his chest thump rapidly in excitement, and he didn’t register the moving body below him in his fantasy of tearing the Red Paladin limb from limb. He deserved it. He was always being compared to him, always asked why he couldn’t be “more like Keith”, his entire foundation as a fighter pilot was based on the fact that Keith had drowned out! Everyone knew he wasn’t as good as him.

  
And that’s why he had to go.

  
Pidge, too. Pidge knew too much about everything. Pidge was always watching and could easily take him over, especially with how lithe her movements were. But for as tiny of a girl she was, Lance could probably just crack her head wide open.  
He smiled a little bit more.

  
“Lance?” The words filtered into his consciousness without him really noticing, and it was frantic. When he came out of his thoughts he realized he had somehow moved to straddle Shiro, blanket still draped over him and his fingers snaking their way around Shiro’s neck. He was surprised, and this was an opportune moment, but… he couldn’t. Something was stopping him.

  
“Mm, yes?” He replied, making himself sound groggy as he only rested his hands where they were, leaning down to kiss bruises on his jaw with his eyes wide open. What was stopping him? Was it love?

  
Lance didn’t love Shiro.

  
“You scared me awake.” He laughed, airlike, reaching to brush his organic fingers through his hair and twirl it around, and Lance melted into it. He hated how he knew what he liked. He hated how his artificial hand was tracing the curve of his back and the cold of the metal made him shiver, that he could recall the memory of their earlier fuck with such vivid images that he didn’t want to kill Shiro. Not because of the sex, but because he was virtually putty in his hands.

  
And that was why he had to go.  
Lance was moving his hand to the nightstand, kissing at his skin and distracting him. He knew his eyes were shut, and his fingertips spread across the letter opener he had placed there for this exact reason. He was beginning to drag it off of the stand when he heard Shiro speak.

  
“You were whispering.”

  
He froze. Whispering about what? Oh God, did he say everything out loud?

  
“Were you dreaming?”

  
“Uh… maybe. What did I say?”

  
He was being forcibly moved so he could look him in the eye. His fingers were being brushed down his cheek.

  
“That we weren’t your family. You wanted us dead, and that you… didn’t love me.”

  
He didn’t respond. He just let Shiro touch him and gaze at him, just as fond as ever, as if he wasn’t fazed by words that should burn like needle marks. He blinked, took a deep breath.

  
“I don’t love you.” He was honest.

  
“I don’t love you, either.”

  
There was a sudden pain searing across Lance’s throat, and he gagged, watched as blood splattered the white wall in front of him and his vision grew blurry. When he gripped his throat he found it slit, the crimson liquid spewing and drenching his front and the man below him.

  
He fell, tumbling off the bed and writhing on the floor. “You can’t hurt us.”

  
As Lance lay, dying, Shiro wiped the blood from his face and out of his mouth, dropping the letter opener beside him. He hovered, watching as the Blue Paladin twitched and choked on himself, the light fading from his eyes. He bent his head into his hands.

  
Shiro loved Lance.


End file.
